


Variations on the Little Death in Malta

by Srin



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Humor, Light Bondage, Light Medical Kink, M/M, Screenplay/Script Format, Semi-Public Sex, What Happened in Malta (The Old Guard), canon-typical deaths of OCs (they're all bad guys don't worry), corpse-adjacent sexy times, getting turned on by violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:13:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26798641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Srin/pseuds/Srin
Summary: We’ve all pretty much agreed that That Time In Malta was sex, but they’ve had a lot of great sex in a lot of lovely places, right? What if there was a more specific reasonthattime in particular was on Nicky’s mind? A few possibilities, presented for your consideration. With apologies to David Ives.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 12
Kudos: 74





	Variations on the Little Death in Malta

**Author's Note:**

> None of the things mentioned in the tags are particularly graphic, this is basically just a lot of silliness.

  1. Mutual bondage



_Scene: Malta. A prison cell, sometime in the 14 th century. YUSUF and NICOLÒ have been arrested for unspecified acts of heroism that pissed off the wrong (right?) people. They are not particularly concerned by this turn of events since ANDROMACHE and QUYNH remain at large and will be coming to their rescue in due course. _

_YUSUF and NICOLÒ, barefoot, wearing only light loose trousers, are side by side in the cell, shackled by the wrists to the wall behind them. Their chains are long enough to allow some movement, but not enough to reach each other with their hands. No one else is present._

NICOLÒ: When did Andromache say they were coming to break us out?

YUSUF: After dark. So we have another few hours.

NICOLÒ: It’s a shame about the shackles. Private cell, no guards around, we could at least have had sex while we wait.

YUSUF, _tugging at his chains_ : You know, some people actually enjoy this sort of thing.

NICOLÒ: Indeed, but I believe erotic bondage traditionally involves at least one participant who is _not_ restrained.

YUSUF: Tradition is overrated. I’ve been wanting you ever since you guilted the guards into letting that poor kid go.

NICOLÒ: I’ve been wanting you for over two hundred years. What did you have in mind?

YUSUF: Turn towards me as much as you can ... yes, good, I think I can reach your lap with my foot...

_YUSUF can indeed reach NICOLÒ’s lap with his foot, and proceeds to rub his heel against NICOLÒ’s cock._

NICOLÒ: Nnngh.

YUSUF: Too hard?

NICOLÒ: Yes. No. Do it again.

_Curtain._

* * *

  1. Victorious and covered in blood



_Scene: Malta. Near a village in the aftermath of a battle, sometime in the 18 th century. NICOLÒ and YUSUF have defeated a group of Very Bad Guys who were tormenting the villagers, stealing their food, damaging their homes, molesting the women, harassing the resident gay couple, kicking puppies, generally being all-around irredeemable dickbags. The unrepentant Very Bad Guys are all dead; NICOLÒ and YUSUF are bloody and jumped up on the adrenaline of a successful and righteous battle._

YUSUF: Have I ever told you how hot you are when you’re smiting evil-doers?

NICOLÒ: Yes, but you’re very welcome to tell me again. Have I ever told you how hot it is when you clean your sword on their clothes before they’re even dead?

YUSUF: Yes, and same. Is it wrong that I really want to make out with you right now?

NICOLÒ: It’s only wrong if you plan to stop at making out.

_NICOLÒ and YUSUF make out. They do not stop at making out._

_After a while, a few VILLAGERS, having noticed that the fighting seems to be over and no one is trying to burn down their houses anymore, come out to express their gratitude. They find NICOLÒ and YUSUF tangled together on the ground. It is not immediately obvious who is doing what to whom, but they are clearly both having an excellent time. The VILLAGERS politely retreat. NICOLÒ and YUSUF carry on._

_After another while, one VILLAGER comes back to leave a large bucket of water, a couple of towels, and a parcel of food for Our Heroes. VILLAGER watches them appreciatively for a while and then leaves again._

_NICOLÒ and YUSUF continue to go at it._

_Curtain._

* * *

  1. Playing Doctor



_Scene: Malta. A private room, sometime in the early 20 th century. There is a sturdy table in the middle of the room. A doctor’s bag is placed prominently, and there are medical texts and anatomical models scattered around the space. NICOLÒ has been catching up on the latest advance in the field. _

_YUSUF, in an undershirt and boxers, is seated on a towel spread over the table. NICOLÒ, fully dressed and wearing a doctor’s coat, with a stethoscope around his neck, is standing before him, looking very serious._

NICOLÒ: First I must check your temperature. Open your mouth, please.

_YUSUF opens his mouth. NICOLÒ slides a finger into his mouth. Yusuf closes his lips around it and sucks playfully. NICOLÒ tuts at him and YUSUF stills._

NICOLÒ: Just as I suspected. You are _unreasonably_ hot.

_YUSUF snickers; NICOLÒ silences him with a stare._

NICOLÒ: There is nothing for it, you will have to remove these clothes.

_YUSUF hops off the table and strips. NICOLÒ watches, pretending professional disinterest, though the growing tent in his trousers suggests otherwise. YUSUF sits on the table again. NICOLÒ looks him over, prompting him to raise his arms, straighten and bend his knees, flex his fingers, and so on. NICOLÒ keeps his touches clinical and detached, avoiding YUSUF’s sensitive spots, but this does not stop YUSUF from slowly getting hard._

NICOLÒ: I’m going to check your heart rate now.

_NICOLÒ puts the earpieces of the stethoscope in his ears, breathes on the disc to warm it, and holds it to YUSUF’s chest. He listens for a while and then nods, satisfied._

NICOLÒ: Excellent. Nice steady rhythm. I can tell you have a good heart.

YUSUF: It beats only for you, my love.

_NICOLÒ breaks character for a moment to smile fondly, and leans in to steal a quick kiss. Then he straightens and looks serious again._

NICOLÒ: Now tell me, Mister al-Kaysani, where does it hurt?

YUSUF: Oh, Doctor, I’m not really sure, you had better check.

_NICOLÒ touches the centre of YUSUF’s chest._

NICOLÒ: Here?

YUSUF: No, not there.

_NICOLÒ touches YUSUF’s nipple._

NICOLÒ: What about here?

YUSUF: Mm, a bit sensitive there ( _NICOLÒ pinches_ ) – oh!

NICOLÒ: More than a bit, I think.

YUSUF: Yes, you’re right. You’re so clever, Doctor. 

NICOLÒ: We shall have to investigate that further later. What about here?

_NICOLÒ touches YUSUF’s hip, just beyond his pubic hair._

YUSUF: Getting closer.

_NICOLÒ grasps YUSUF’s cock, holding it firmly but not stroking._

NICOLÒ: Here?

YUSUF: Nnngh.

NICOLÒ: Interesting. Tell me, Mister al-Kaysani, does it always hurt here? Or only at certain times?

YUSUF: Certain times.

NICOLÒ: Is there anything in particular that brings on this … discomfort?

YUSUF: The love of my life being a shameless tease, for one.

NICOLÒ: Hmm. What if I do this?

_NICOLÒ releases YUSUF’s cock to cup his balls instead, and slides two fingers of his other hand along YUSUF’s taint, towards his arsehole. YUSUF shifts his weight to one side to allow better access._

YUSUF: Oh yes. It hurts there too.

NICOLÒ: Lay back on the table and spread your legs. I fear I must examine this entire area much more carefully.

YUSUF: Yes Doctor. I’m glad you’re being so thorough.

NICOLÒ: Only the best for my favourite patient. 

_Curtain._

* * *

  1. Capture by enemies with delusions of grandeur



_Scene: Malta. A bedroom in a grand villa, sometime in the 15 th or 16th century. The room contains an enormous, sumptuous bed, a dressing table covered with assorted small pots and vials, a large chest, and a wardrobe. A power-hungry petty aristocrat, VILLAIN, has learned Our Heroes’ secret and managed to capture them. Foolishly, he has had them brought to his room in order to have a gloat about his wicked plans. _

_YUSUF and NICOLÒ have their hands tied with rope in front of them; they are not otherwise restrained._

VILLAIN: With you at my disposal I will build an army to conquer the world!

YUSUF: There are only two of us.

NICOLÒ: And we don’t really go in for world-conquering.

VILLAIN: I have seen how you fight! Two is enough!

YUSUF: It’s enough for dealing with you, sure. You really shouldn’t have sent those guards away.

_There is a brief fight, at the end of which VILLAIN lies died on the floor. NICOLÒ crouches down to retrieve VILLAIN’s dagger with his tied hands, and cuts off the rope around YUSUF’s wrists while YUSUF eyes the bed speculatively._

YUSUF: We haven’t had a bed this nice in ages.

NICOLÒ: Fucking in our defeated enemy’s bed with his body _right there_ seems a little… I don’t know… crass?

YUSUF: We are nothing if not paragons of decency and decorum. We could throw the body out the window?

NICOLÒ: I’m not certain that defenestration would be that much classier. Besides, someone would notice. But it is a very nice bed.

_YUSUF, now free, takes the dagger and works on NICOLÒ’s rope._

YUSUF: I think those sheets are silk.

NICOLÒ: Would he fit into the wardrobe, do you think?

YUSUF: Fit? Probably. Fall out later just in time to ruin the moment? Also probably.

_NICOLÒ is free now as well. He rubs his wrists and looks at the bed thoughtfully._

NICOLÒ: That big pillow would be perfect for putting under your hips. I could do that thing you liked.

YUSUF: Which thing? I like everything you do to me.

_NICOLÒ and YUSUF kiss._

NICOLÒ: Damascus. With the rosemary oil.

YUSUF: Ohh, _that_ thing. That _was_ good. I bet there are spare linens in that chest, we could put a sheet over him?

NICOLÒ: Good enough. I’ll see what I can find for oil.

_NICOLÒ goes to the dressing table and sniffs the contents of the assorted pots and vials while YUSUF takes a sheet from the chest and covers VILLAIN’s body._

NICOLÒ: Citrus, mint, or plain olive oil?

YUSUF: That sounds like a good salad dressing. Bring them all.

_NICOLÒ places the pots next to the bed and looks at YUSUF slyly._

NICOLÒ: I do mean to make a feast of you.

_YUSUF joins NICOLÒ beside the bed._

YUSUF: Bold words for a man still wearing clothes for some reason.

NICOLÒ: Not my fault you haven’t taken them off me yet.

YUSUF: I have been remiss, haven’t I?

NICOLÒ: I’m sure I can be persuaded to forgive you.

_Curtain._

* * *

  1. Watching Yusuf sleep



_Scene: A secluded beach at dawn. It could be yesterday or nine hundred years ago or any time in between. A large blanket is spread out on the sand beside a boulder. NICOLÒ is seated on the blanket, back to the boulder. YUSUF is sprawled out on his stomach between NICOLÒ’s legs, his head pillowed on NICOLÒ’s thigh, eyes closed. They are both naked. NICOLÒ is not aroused, but this is only because they are both thoroughly satiated, having come countless times already throughout the night. NICOLÒ is looking at YUSUF and gently stroking YUSUF’s hair._

NICOLÒ: Do you know why I like watching you sleep? You give so much to the world. Your kindness, your strength, your art, your beautiful words, your smiles and laughter. You give so much to everyone, and you give so much to me, and I love you for it. But I worry too. That you give so much and do not keep enough for yourself. I try to tell you, but I do not have words like your words, and I try to look after you, but you always turn my care back on me. When you sleep, there is nothing to give. Your rest is just for yourself. And I love to see that.

YUSUF _, without opening his eyes_ : And here I thought you just liked looking at my mouth without me running it.

_NICOLÒ laughs._

NICOLÒ: I like everything you do with your mouth. I think you know just how much I like it.

YUSUF: Maybe I better do it again, just to be sure.

NICOLÒ: Maybe you should. Later. Now, sleep, and let me watch you.

YUSUF, _ending on a yawn_ : So demanding.

NICOLÒ: You love it.

YUSUF: I do.

_YUSUF sleeps, and NICOLÒ watches him, and the light turns golden as the sun comes up._

**Author's Note:**

> Title and general inspiration taken from Variations on the Death of Trotsky, a hilarious one-act play by David Ives which I can only hope I haven't besmirched too much by association with this silliness.


End file.
